


California

by GryffindorGirl94



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brief Tony/OMC, California by Lana Del Rey, Depression, Flashbacks, Heartbreak, Honeymoon, I Made Myself Cry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mentions of Bottom Tony, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Reunion, Sad, Songfic, Superhusbands, Tony Stark Feels, Tony’s POV after the Civil War mess, barely there smut, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryffindorGirl94/pseuds/GryffindorGirl94
Summary: Months after the Civil War disaster that left his marriage in shambles, Tony decides to call Steve and give him an ultimatum.(Or a last chance, but he’d never admit to that).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the beautiful song “Califonia” by Lana Del Rey. It will make much more sense if you give it a listen. (If you haven’t already) 🖤

_Oh, I'll pick you up_  
_If you come back to America, just hit me up_  
_ 'Cause this is crazy love, I'll catch you on the flip side_  
_ If you come back to California, you should just hit me up_

The ring was the worst part, Tony decided.

He couldn’t bare to look at it, and yet, the thought of taking it off made him sick with dread. 

It had been his own invention, after all. Made out of residual pieces of the arc reactor, straight from his very own artificial, disfuncional heart. It glowed blue in the darkness of the silent lab, having lost its matching partner on Tony’s chest a while ago, after he’d no longer needed it to stay alive. 

And the other partner... well, it could be found about a couple thousand miles from here, in Siberia. No, definitely not in Siberia, because Steve might be reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t stay in the same place where he’d had, both figuratively and literally, broke Tony’s heart to pieces. 

Tony was currently sitting on the little deck outside his Malibu beach house, all alone, watching the gentle ripples of the sea in front of him. 

Having finally had enough of the constant and suffocating presence of the people he called family, he’d practically ran away from the Tower without so much as a goodbye. They had his best interests at heart, and Tony knew it, but he couldn’t stand the pitying glances or the sad sighs they unconsciously threw his way when they found him lying in bed all day, day after day, yet unable to sleep; throwing up what little food he ate or viciously emptying thousand-dollar whiskey bottles faster than they could throw them away.

Even in his worse moments, back when his heart had been close to literally stopping and his body was on the brink of collapsing from palladium poisoning, when Tony felt more dead than alive, he’d never stopped working on his projects. His lab was his scapegoat, his safe heaven, the only place he could go into and make things right when everything in his life (including himself) was anything but.

This last month, however, he’d spent lying around and being completely useless. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone, but that didn’t stop Rhodey and Pepper from coming up to the penthouse to try and get him to eat and shower, constantly telling him how worried they were, and tried to help him by any means, even if they knew it was a lost cause.

_I know a very good therapist, Tony, completely confidential, she won’t even ask for names, you know. Maybe give it a try? For us? We’re worried about you, you won’t even eat, Tony, please_ .

It hadn’t worked, but he was still infinitely thankful for his best friends and they’d only let him go once he promised them he’d eat and behave like a functional, non-suicidal human being once he settled down in his beach house. And he’d kept his promise, more or less, if microwave food and a maybe a couple hours of sleep every two days counted as functional things for a human to do. 

Mostly.

Looking out the massive front window, at the beach, he watched the sun slowly going down the line of the horizon, painting the sea and the sand a beautiful orange shade he remembered Steve trying so hard to recreate on the painting he’d been working on, out in the deck, wearing only a pair of blue swimming shorts, his skin tanned and cheeks reddened, hair a brighter shade of blonde after being exposed to the sun and the sea all day.

He’d looked so handsome, like a dream come true. And he’d smile at Tony like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

Although he remembered the bad times too, when, despite spending all day relaxing with Tony on the beach and doing basically nothing but kiss, drink, eat, and laugh; the nightmares came regardless, making the blonde trash and turn before waking up in a cold sweat, panic attack full on as Tony forcefully settled into his lap and held him through it. 

Usually, you weren’t supposed to do that to people when they were in the middle of a panic attack that strong, but Steve had told him it was the only thing that worked for him, being held tightly and able to grab onto someone, scared of drifting away forever otherwise. Tony would card his fingers through damp blonde hair and whisper in his husband’s ear.

_ I got you, honey, you’re safe, you’re safe with me, sweetheart, it’s okay, let go, let me handle this, just grab onto me, that’s it, you’re safe now. _

The morning after, Steve would wake him up with a fresh cup of his favorite coffee and a thousand kisses to his face, Tony grunting and pushing him away only to be flipped over and passionately kissed for his efforts, Steve holding him tight while he told him, breath hot on his ear, making him shiver.

_Christ, Tony, i don’t know what i did to deserve you, and you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me  and i’m never letting you go, doll. Ever._

Turns out that had also been a fucking lie. 

And Tony, so foolish back then, so _hopelessly_ in  love, had believed every word. He laughed and blushed and kissed back with equal force, straddling his husband and quickly getting rid of their clothes to welcome him inside, his body already prepped and pliant from the night before. 

Afterwards, while Steve was lying on the bed again, wearing a sated smile and blissed out expression on his handsome face, Tony had wandered into the kitchen and prepared drinks for the both of them (yes, it was only one pm indeed, but they were on their honeymoon and regular drinking rules didn’t apply here, obviously ) while they waited for their lunch to be delivered, since none of them knew how to cook and besides, they were too busy indulging in their vacation and each other to even try.

Steve got up when he spotted him coming back into their room carrying a tray with one of those hideous colorful cocktails he loved so much and the classic scotch for himself, blue eyes shining with adoration as he grabbed his drink.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He winked at Tony, kissing him with fruity, sweet tasting lips, and Tony’s heart had ached something terrible, filled to the brim with love for the other man. He remembered thinking he’d make those goddamn cocktails every day of his life if it meant having Steve smile at him like that.

What an irony it was, that now, almost a year later, his heart ached for the same reasons, though this time it was a drastically different kind of ache. His chest felt excruciatingly tight after the memories of their honeymoon came back to him, spent at this very same place.

For the first time in his life, Tony wondered if a person could actually die from a heartbreak. 

His gaze got caught once again by the subtle, yet persistent glow of his wedding ring. It seemed dull, almost as if it, too, despite being an inanimate object, was mourning the loss of its twin.

He’d been so nervous the day he’d decided to finally propose to Steve, second guessing the homemade wedding bands and just about everything else (including himself, of course, patented Tony Stark self-loathing for the win). In the end, he hadn’t need to worry, because Steve’d nearly start crying as he hugged Tony by the waist with his big strong arms, spinning him around in the air, laughing breathlessly, the corners of the bright blue eyes Tony loved so much crinkled with joy. 

He’d said yes over and over and over again, kissing every spot on Tony’s face he could find as Tony laughed and pretended to be annoyed when he was actually  _flooded_ with relief. Steve’d seemed so happy back then, so devoted to Tony, to their plans, to their family.

He was probably countries away from all of that right now, hiding with his little murdering cyborg, no doubt making up for all the lost time. 

Tony threw the old as fuck flip-phone from hand to hand, reflecting on his next move.

Steve said to call him. B ut then again, Steve said a lot of things. Beautiful things. Ugly things.

Things.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame this particularly stupid, self-destructive, undoubtedly  _bad_ decision on alcohol. 

Everyone called their ex husband while drunk off their asses, right? Embarrassing as it could be, it was a pretty cliché, regular thing to do, right? Happened all the time.

But Tony Stark was stone cold sober when he flipped open that monstruosity of a cellphone and called Steve Rogers to... Oh, right, he didn’t even know what the hell he was going to say to him yet.

His throat felt like someone was squeezing it with both hands as he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear, his erratic heartbeat reverberating and mixing with the static sound of the line.

Steve didn’t pick up. 

Of  course he didn’t, the bastard. Well, this should be a good thing, right? Losing this perfect opportunity to make a fool out of himself? 

After a few agonizing seconds, the call finally went to voicemail, and against his better judgment (against his self-respect  _and_ dignity too, apparently) he cleared his throat as best he could before he started speaking.

“Steve? Hey, it’s me, Tony, but i guess you already know that. I’ve got reasons to believe I’m the only person you gave this number to, since you’re a wanted criminal now and all that jazz. I don’t even know why i’m talking to the voicemail like it’s actually you, but... jeez, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’d apologize for rambling but in my defense, that’s what 48 hours in a row without sleep will do to you.” He cringed.

_Now’s definitely not the time to throw a pity party, Tony_.

“God, why did i even say that? You don’t care. Anyways. Back to the point. I...” He paused to take a deep breath and make sure his voice wouldn’t crack. He was already losing his dignity here, no need to make it worse, thank you very much. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, you know, not that I’ve got much to do besides that... i mean, cleaning up after you and your little stunt took me a while, that’s true, but i got it all sorted out in a couple of days, cause i’m efficient like that, you know.” He realized giving Steve shit right know was the furthest thing from the point of this call, and forced his mind to steer clear of any barbed thoughts that could and  would turn into spiteful words if he let them.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t i? I’m missing the whole point of this call, here. Guess what i’m really trying to say is...”

He had to make a physical effort to keep his voice in check now. Damn it, but it still hurt. _So damn much_. 

Tony took yet  another deep breath and soldiered on.

“I want you to come home, Steve. I’m willing to put all this behind us, and i’ll forgive you, i swear i will, if you come back and apologize properly, that is. I've made mistakes and some very bad choices, that's hard to deny. But you hiding away God knows where with half of our family and your murdering ex-lover, or ex-best friend, or whatever the hell  _he_ is, while do the same but in my own home won’t solve anything. For anybody.” He fought hard to keep the burning, sudden anger away from his voice, but eventually he went back to the calm, reasonable tone he’d been using before. 

“And you don’t even have to worry about the government.” He continued. “I did some damage control, well, Pepper did, bless her. They won’t pursue you or your... _friend_.” The tightness came back, this time with unyielding tears rapidly filling his eyes until he had no choice but to close them and let them fall, wincing at his own inability to keep himself under control.

The collected semblance he’d spent so much time perfectioning broke, and he couldn’t help the way his voice took on a begging tone.

“Steve.  _Honey_. Please come home. I can’t do this without you. I  promise you everything will be alright, all you have to do is  _come home_.” He rubbed his wet eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding onto the phone for dear life, having made his peace with the fact that he wasn’t above begging. 

This was his  _marriage_ on the line, after all. A lesser man would’ve broke way sooner than he had, and Tony was man enough to admit that he needed Steve like he needed air to breathe, and the mere thought of never seeing him again devastated him like nothing else, let alone  actually having to go through with the divorce his lawyers had suggested he start planning.

“Anyways.” He began again, voice slightly more composed this time, although no less strained.

“I think i’ve already said my part. If you decide to accept the offer, i’ll be waiting for you in California. In the Malibu house, of course, your favorite one, with the beach view you enjoy painting so much. I’ll even make you one of those disgusting cocktails you seem to love so much.” And there it was. Not a smile exactly, but the closest he’d been from one in months.

“Please, think about it.” He concluded, closing his eyes as, inside his chest, tentative relief replaced the tightness from before.

This was it. 

It was over now, for better or for worse. Tony’d done his part, everything in his power. Now it was Steve’s choice to make.

Whether he came home, whether he decided that their marriage was worth fighting for, that  _Tony _ was worth fighting for, it was up to him.

“Goodbye, Steve. Take care.”

I love you, went unsaid_._

I love you and i miss you and i don’t think i know how to do this without you, or if i even want to .  All I want is you by my side again, please, please, please...

Now, all that was left to do was hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when what was supposed to be an angsty one-shot turned into a multiple chapter thingy with plot, but here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i promised y’all a part 2 with Steve coming back, but i wanted to add something in the middle to spice things up a little and show you Tony’s perspective a little better. Please be patient with me 🥴

Exactly 7 days later, Tony got officially tired of “_moping around_”, as Pepper had put it. 

He still hadn’t heard back from Steve, and even though the other man’s day-to-day surely wasn’t a very friendly environment and he probably didn’t have the time to check his phone often, it still hurt, being ignored like this. He’d been tinkering with his projects, as usual, a couple upgrades on the Spidey suit for Peter and a new infrared feature for his glasses, but all in all he felt like a parasite; lounging around and doing barely anything all day, waiting for his husband’s phone call like a wife waiting for her husband to return from war. Ugh.

But it didn’t matter anyways. Since he settled down in California, he’d been getting hundreds of party invites from local acquaintances and whatnot, all dying to have him attend to their parties and honestly, it had been a while since he took a night off to go out like he used to. So, he picked himself up from his post sort-of-divorce depression pit and sent a quick text confirming his attendance. He gave himself a nice buzz while he got ready, Armani suit tailored to perfection and making him feel confident in his own skin for the very first time in months, even sexy. The pants accentuated all his good curves and the beige colored suit brought out his recently tanned skin beautifully.

_ Let them trip all over themselves to get a piece of me, _ he thought_.  It’s not like i’ve got anything to lose anymore._

He arrives to the party in typical Tony Stark fashion: riding on the limo (the driver was no Happy, but he’d do), obscene amounts of alcohol in his system and a whole hour late (_fashionably_ late, as he liked to call it). His vision was kind of blurry, but he wasn’t drunk enough to come off as clumsy or, well, _drunk_ yet, and for that he was grateful, the years and years of alcoholism finally paying off. 

He stepped out of the limo, squaring his shoulders and sliding on his tinted shades, dark blue colored this time around.

“J, how do i look?” He asked his sunglasses, JARVIS’s polite voice replying with an instant _ “Positively ravaging, sir.”_

“Excellent.”

The only thing that was missing were the super-models hanging off his arms, but even being as heartbroken as he was, he’d never do that to Steve. Their marriage was near to nonexistent by now, that was true, but he would be still publicly disrespecting his  still-husband-after-all and that just wasn’t the kind of person Tony was. That was not to say, however, that the press thought the same. The “breaking” news had appeared all over the internet, TV, and magazines alike. `Former playboy billionaire Stark heir single again!?’ Or `All you need to know about America’s most scandalous divorce’ and let’s not forget `Who could be the next lucky man to marry the billion-dollar genius?’ As if Tony would be stupid enough to marry some lowlife gold-digger. As if Tony would be stupid enough to marry again period.

He wasn’t even divorced yet, and he still had to put up with shit like this. Sometimes he just wished he was a regular, non-famous, nine-to-five-job human. That way he could go out to party without having to worry about money thirsty assholes swarming him like a bunch of extremely annoying insects. Nevertheless, it was still better than being locked away by himself, downing drink after drink and pretty much doing nothing but drown in self pity, so he’d have to put up with it. 

That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t be drunk as fuck by then, though. Maybe alcohol  did contribute to him making like 70% of his bad life choices, but at least it made everything more tolerable, and you had to love it for that, didn’t you?

He winced subtly as the metaphorical sharks that were the reporters waiting by the door of the hotel crowded him, yelling questions at him relentlessly and nearly blinding him with their camera flashes. He smiled for them though, waiving and posing in typical Tony Stark reverie. He greeted people warmly on his way in, acting like he knew them because they seemed to know him, but in reality, their faces blurred together and he didn’t recognize anyone at all. 

Oh, well. They were gonna kiss the floor he walked on one way or another, why bother with pleasantries? The thought was a toxic one, his awfully arrogant attitude from the past coming back to him in waves, and even though he hated himself for that, he let it run its course. Nothing to lose, right?

Suddenly, there was a broad hand gently taking a hold of his forearm while a young man’s muffled voice spoke from somewhere behind him. He blinked and turned around, confused, and he came face to face with an admittedly rather handsome blond man whom he recalled from somewhere, but as everyone else’s, his name was lost to Tony.

“Mr. Stark.” Came the polite greeting, painfully blue eyes looking in his. “Long time no see.” 

He extended his hand, and Tony took it, still dazzled from those nearly familiar eyes. Great, just what he needed. A nearly identical Steve doppelgänger to come sweet-talk him into God knew what. Awesome.

The other man’s grip was gentle but firm, and his eyes momentarily stranded to Tony’s lips before settling in on his eyes. 

“You got that right...” He desperately wracked his brain for a name to match the man’s face, but came up empty handed. Well, shit. 

However, the man didn’t seem offended at all. He laughed warmly, putting his other hand on top of Tony’s briefly before letting go altogether.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember my name. You’re a busy man, i’m sure you meet a lot of people all the time, so no hard feelings. It’s Michael, i'm a CEO at Apple.” He winked at Tony, and the boyish charm admittedly made something stir inside of him. The thought stung, but t’d been so long, and this stranger reminded him so much of Steve. He wasn’t about to bring back the playboy part of him anytime soon, thank you very much, but some harmless flirting couldn’t hurt. He’d came out to have some fun and take his mind off Steve, after all, so why not do exactly that?

“Oh! It’s all coming back to me now.” He didn’t have to lie, the name brought back a memory from a business meeting with the other huge tech company, and this man had been by far the most intelligent, competent member of his team. Tony tended to remember people like that.

“Business meeting, year and a half or so ago? You sassed the shit out of your superior back then when he spewed some mediocre shit about lowering half of the worker’s salaries to a third of what they’d been making before.” He drawled, and the young man’s face lit up with joy at the fact that Tony actually remembered him. It was adorable.

“Yes! Yes, that’d be me. I can’t believe you actually remember.” He resembled a happy puppy so much in that moment, Tony resisted the urge to “_awww_” at him. 

Man, maybe he  _was_ a little drunk after all.

“I'm not the best with faces, that’s true, but you seem to qualify for my '_worth remembering_' list.” It was Tony’s turn to wink at the tall blond, from behind his shades, and Michael actually blushed under the attention. His skin complexion was so pale he had no way to hide the blush, just like- 

No. _Focus, Tony. Don’t you think about him._

“I’m glad.” There was softness in the man's gaze as he looked down at Tony. “Would you like to join me out on the balcony for a drink, Mr. Stark? It’s getting kind of stuffy in here.” The invitation wasn’t lewd, far from it actually, but it wasn’t completely innocent either. 

Tony found himself nodding before he could change his mind. Michael was nice enough, and, admittedly, his broad shoulders, muscled form and shiny eyes didn’t hurt either. And it  _was_ actually getting uncomfortably hot inside the hotel’s massive lobby, now that he noticed.

“I’d like that.” He boldly grabbed the other man’s elbow. “Lead the way. Oh, and if you’re gonna get a drink with me, least you can do is call me Tony.” Trademark patented Tony Stark Smirk in place, and there it was. Poor boy was completely gone, already hanging onto his every word, jaw slacking almost against his will.

Mid-forties, going through one of the worst crisis of his life, and he still managed to make anyone he wanted pant after him. Pretty impressive, if you asked him.

“O-of course. Tony.” He said it like it was a privilege, and Tony resisted the urge to ask him for something way less innocent than a drink.

But he couldn’t. No matter what, he couldn’t. His promise to Steve stood strong, never mind that the other man hadn’t returned his call, they were still very much  married, and Tony was a lot of things, but cheater wasn’t one of them (and it never would be). He could have his fun tonight, flirt a little, have a couple of drinks, and that would be fine; but at the end of the day, Steve was still the only man he wanted on top of him. Or next to him. Same difference.

“-ny? Tony, are you okay?” Came the slightly worried voice, and wow, were they at the bar already? The bartender trying to take his order and the worried man beside him told him that yes, they indeed were, and he was making a fool of himself. 

He recovered quickly, though, ordering a scotch while Michael sticked to beer. Tony teased him about it while they were making their way out the lobby and into the balcony, which was subtly lit by a thousand tiny golden lights, summer breeze cooling off his heated skin. He tilted his head back gratefully, not missing the way Michael’s eyes followed the movement, hunger shining inside those blue eyes, obvious as a neon sign. He didn’t say anything, though, ever the gentleman, and they sat down on a big, cream colored couch that felt as uncomfortable as it looked.

“So, Michael.” He watched amusedly as the other man’s eyes settled immediately on him. “Tell me more about yourself.”

Said eyes brightened as the man complied, and Tony actually payed attention to him, surprisingly not hating the outcome. 

In fact, Michael proved one more time to be more than competent when it came to tech related stuff, bringing up Tony’s own papers and research and making admittedly smart notes on them. He was funny as well, his jokes clever but never offensive or disrespectful, and the billionaire found himself enjoying the other man’s company a lot more than he thought he would, occasionally letting his eyes wander to his charming smile or the way his notoriously big biceps flexed underneath the snug sleeves of his suit. If Michael noticed, he politely ignored it, and for that Tony was grateful. He wasn’t trying to give the other man the wrong idea. Not completely, at least.

Time flew by as they idly conversed, and before he knew it, the party was slowly coming to an end, most of the guests having ditched it already to go do God-knows-what while a few lingered, mostly at the bar. He settled his hand delicately on the other man’s shoulder to politely interrupt him before voicing his thoughts.

“Is it just me or we’re the only ones left out here?” 

“Man, you’re right.” Michael looked around and then back at Tony. “Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere else? A bar, perhaps? I know a great one by the beach.” 

And why the hell not? They would be in a public place so Tony didn’t have to worry about Michael getting the wrong idea, it was still early, and, worst of all, he was still  _sober_. 

“Lead the way.” He said, and watched as the blond man’s face lit up before he was on his feet and readily offering Tony his arm again. He was a charmer for sure, and such a gentleman too. Too bad Tony’s heart already belonged to one of those.

The drive to the beach bar was short, no more than ten minutes or so, spent in comfortable silence. Once they arrived, they made himself at home in the tastefully decorated wooden bar, Tiki torches lit all around them, a bonfire going on a few miles from them.

“Are you ready to order?” The bartender, a pretty brunette girl wearing a flower crown asked. Tony smiled politely at her and ordered which would be the first of many drinks (he hoped).

Thinking back on it, maybe he shouldn’t have drank that many daiquiris; but the summer breeze felt lovely against his heated skin, and him and Michael were sitting on the surprisingly comfortable barstools, the blond laughing at his jokes while he stroked the outside of his thigh from where it was touching his, and Tony hadn’t felt this carefree in months. He wanted the feeling to stay, so he downed drink after drink and purposely rubbed his leg against his companion’s, enjoying the way the other man’s eyes would darken with barely concealed, pure  want. The attention felt nice, even if it wasn’t from the person he wanted, so he basked in it.

When the sun began to rise, painting the sand pink, orange and yellow, they finally up and left the cozy little bar, making their way towards Michael’s parked red Audi. 

“Are you, are you sure you’re good to drive?” He asked in Michael’s general direction, the alcohol finally making his words kinda slur. He knew he shouldn’t be driving, but the blond had drank considerably less than Tony, and had stopped around his third drink, ordering a glass of water after another, grazing the edge of drunkenness but never quite crossing it, unlike Tony.

“Positive. I wouldn’t be letting you get in otherwise, Tony. Safety first.” Michael smiled that good-boy smile of his again and  _damn him_, why did he have to behave  just like Steve in addition to looking like him?  Fuck.

Tony slammed the car’s door shut and plopped down on the passenger’s seat, slurring out his address as he opened the window, letting the soft summer breeze hit his face and help him regain a bit of his consciousness back. Before he knew it, they’d arrived to his house, and Tony felt nervous for the first time since meeting Michael. Would he be expecting them to fuck? He didn’t look particularly eager to start anything, but Tony’d only known this guy for like half a day so he didn’t want to rush to conclusions.

“Wanna come in for a cup of coffee or something?”  _Dammit __ Tony, why?_ Now the poor guys gonna think he’s about to get lucky. But he tended to just blurt out things when he got nervous, and there was no backtracking now, as he watched Michael nod happily and walk him to the front door.

Once inside, he asked JARVIS for the time_ ‘thirty-three minutes past five AM, sir’ _ and went into the kitchen to get started on the coffee bed promised while his guest waited for him in the living room. Once he finished, he headed back to the living-room, balancing two cups of black coffee in one hand with practiced ease while the other held the TV remote.  


“Are you feeling better?” Michael asked, pointedly ignoring the cause of Tony’s discomfort (bless his soul) which was, most definitely, the ungodly amounts of alcohol he’d consumed in one single night. 

“Yeah, just needed my Colombian brew and a little peace and quiet.” He whispered, as if sharing a secret. Michael smiled conspiratorially.

“I’m glad.” He got serious all of a sudden, a cute little frown appearing between his very blond brows. Oh, no.

“Listen, Tony. Tonight’s been great, and you might just be the most interesting man i’ve ever met in a while, if not ever. I don’t want to rush into things and make you regret inviting into your home but you look so beautiful right now, all sleepy, _God_ you don’t even know, and i really really really wanna kiss you. If you’d let me. Of course.” He finished, cheeks glowing red, and Tony sighed, resigned.

“To be completely honest with you, because i think you deserve it, you’ve been great too. It’s so unusual to find such good company on parties like yesterday’s, i’m sure you must know, and i had a great time tonight, i really did. But.” He quite literally saw the way his guest’s face fell, and felt like the biggest piece of shit in the universe, but he really couldn’t offer him anything else; not right now, not like this.

“As you might or might not know, i’m currently still very much married.” His tone was soft and slow, wanting to let the other man down easy.

“Yes, i am aware of that. Everyone knows about you and Captain Rogers. I just thought, well... I thought you were taking a break and were allowed to, see other people? I don’t know, i shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry.” He looked down, looking like a kicked puppy.  _Way to go, Tony_. 

“Don’t apologize. _Fuck_, don’t-“ He rubbed his hand across his face, suddenly exhausted. “Don’t do that. You were perfect. Hell you  _are_ perfect, i’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, i-_mphf_” 

And wow, what was happening? Michael’s hot mouth crashed into his before he could finish his statement, the other man’s big hands holding his nape while he rubbed the sides of his throat with his thumbs, and Tony tensed, letting out a surprised moan inside the blonde’s mouth. The sound seemed to snap the other man out of it, because he backed away as fast as he’d came, his mouth leaving Tony’s like it burned him.

“_What_.” Was all he managed to say, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, i’m _so_ sorry, God i’m such an idiot. It’s just, you were complimenting me, and, _fuck_, i might like you a little too much, i mean, you’re freaking _gorgeous_, Tony, who _wouldn’t_, and i... It won’t happen again.” Michael rushed out, already standing up from the couch as if he was expecting Tony to kick him out. 

Tony sighed for what he felt was the hundredth time that night and gestured for the man to sit back down. It was no use crying over spilled milk, or whatever. 

If anything, the kiss had served to prove the one reality he’d been trying to avoid like the plague: he was still caught up in Steve, and he was in no way, shape, or form prepared to hook up with someone else, let alone form anything that resembled a relationship. Steve was the love of his life, and he’d always would be. He could crush Tony’s heart to pieces and he would be still waiting for the him to come pick it up and put it back together, even if it’d been days since his phone call, even Steve had seemingly given up on him. _For better or for worse, till death do us part_, wasn't it? Now  _that _ was a bleak picture if Tony’d ever seen one.

Resigned, he made himself comfortable on the couch, leaning against a very red looking Michael and pressing the Netflix button on the remote.

“Star Wars?” Simple. A peace offering.

“Yes please.” Michael accepted, and just like that, they were back to normal.

* * *

Tony was suddenly awoken by a resounding crash that sounded like it came from the kitchen. Startled, he sat up on the couch, only to realize he wasn’t there anymore. Someone (obviously Michael, the gentlemanly gentleman) had moved him to his bed after he’d apparently fallen asleep on the couch next to his guest. Man, he'd really been drunk off his ass, hadn't he? Now, as he quite literally jumped out of bed (still dressed in yesterday’s suit minus the jacket, _ew_) and walked towards the source of the noise as fast as his headache allowed him, he could also distinguish muffled voices. What the hell? Had someone broken into his house? It wouldn't be the first time, but couldn't they at least wait until Tony's hungover was gone to pull some evil shit like that? Jeez.  


He threw his bedroom door open only to freeze upon the sight that greeted from the other side.

The first thing he noticed was that the place smelled like coffee, and he was about to start singing his praises to Michael only to realize the blond was not lounging around casually in the kitchen as he should be, but pinned against the wall by another big, blond man, and...

“You’ve got exactly five seconds to tell me who the hell are you and what you were doing in my husband’s kitchen before i smash your head in with that shield you see over there.” The man was calmly talking to a red-faced, nearly choked Michael while he held him by the neck against the wall like he weighted nothing, obviously not bothered by the man’s terrified expression or the fact that he was literally about to fucking choke to death, and Tony might have been hungover as all hell and half blinded by the punishing morning light, but he would recognize that damned shoulder-to-waist ratio anywhere. 

_It couldn’t be_. Tony rubbed his eyes and re-focused them, just in case.

And the vision did not change, because there, standing in the middle his kitchen like he owned the place, threatening the life out of his poor guest like it was his personal mission and not breaking a sweat even as he held a grown man’s full weight with only one arm was...

“_Steve_!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S: comments make me write faster ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reunion at last. Hope it's not disappointing, I tried to make it as realistic as possible. ❤️

It was almost comical, the way both men turned around to look at him (well, Michael was still pinned against the wall, so he didn't really had a look of room to _actually_ turn around, but still).

Steve seemed happy to see him, but he guiltily lowered his gaze to the ground pretty soon after having made eye contact. He didn't let Michael go, though, so Tony hurried to shake himself out of his initial shock to come to his guest's aid.

"What the hell are you doing? Put him down! He's here because I  _invited_ him!" He grabbed Steve's arm in an attempt to make him release the other man's throat, but it was like trying to get a stone wall to budge. Not possible.

Steve seemed as shocked as Tony had been, but he reacted way quicker, releasing his choking hold on the other man's throat, carelessly letting him fall to the ground in a pool of limbs. He stared at the fallen man, completely unconcerned, before turning back to Tony and eagerly searching his eyes again.

"We need to talk." He simply stated, walking towards a whiplashed Tony. "I got you voicemail, and I came as soon as I could, but it ain't easy catching a flight to Cali when you're in the middle of nowhere and..." He suddenly seemed to remember the other man's presence, turning to him and giving him a threatening glare. "You." He pointed an accusing finger at Michael's disheveled form, sitting on the floor, probably scared shitless. "Still haven't answered my question. Who the _hell_ are you?"

The poor guy cleared his throat, trying to get his words out, but Tony took pity on him and rushed to answer Steve's question himself. "I told you, I invited him. He's a... friend." Lame, but he was still very much groggy from sleeping what, three hours?  _And_ hung over as fuck, so.

"I see." There was no sympathy or regret in those steely blue eyes, and it made Tony roll his. Steve had always been a possessive asshole, so at least _that_ hadn't changed. The thought was oddly comforting.

He walked towards his guest and helped him stand up, apologizing in account of his psycho <strike>ex</strike>-husband, trying in vain to straighten the other man's horribly wrinkled suit. Steve watched the whole interaction with an unimpressed brow arched, big arms crossed across his even bigger chest. What an impolite jerk, honestly.

"Well." Michael made a valiant attempt at standing up tall, and succeed. Kind of. "I believe I've got places to be, and you two seem to have a lot to talk about." He did his best to ignore Steve's murdering gaze as he shook Tony's hand in goodbye, polite as ever.

"Thank you for keeping me company tonight, you've been great." Tony told him, and if he was blatantly saying all this in order to see how jealous Steve could get before he exploded, the jerk deserved it anyways; and besides, he'd always liked to mess with things and test limits (hell, that was practically his entire brand).

"It's been truly a pleasure, Tony. Captain Rogers." Michael nodded, and then he was off, hurrying out of the room but trying his best to make it seem like he wasn't. Tony chuckled, shaking his head before he remembered he was very much alone with his _kind of but not really ex husband _now, and thing were about to get very awkward very soon, but at least he was here, right? He'd actually came back. Jeez, he needed to sit down, his head was starting to spin for alcohol unrelated reasons entirely.

"And don't bother coming back." Steve told Michael's retreating back, tone smug and dismissive. It shouldn't have been hot, but it was. Tony sighed; a deep, resigned sound, and headed towards the kitchen, noticing it was kind of becoming his safe heaven for extremely awkward, unwanted situations. Not that Steve actually coming back was an unwanted situation, but it was still... complicated. 

To say the least.

"Tea or coffee?" He asks Steve, trying for normalcy even though he already knew the answer.

Steve takes the bait. "Tea, please."

Without another word, he walked to the couch and sat down on it, heavily, like all the fight had suddenly left him.

Tony could relate. He himself felt like this conversation was about to take a huge emotional toll on him, but it would be better to dive in headfirst, get the ugly parts out-of-the-way first and then see where they could go from there. The thought stung, and he like someone had suddenly forced him to swallow an ice block that wouldn't go down, no matter how hard he tried to force it to. He needed coffee- _no_, scratch that, what he actually needed was a glass full of his strongest scotch.

In the end, he compromised, pouring a couple of fingers of scotch into his steaming coffee mug (liquid courage). He then fetched the sugar and dumped exactly two and a half spoons, just as Steve liked, into the teacup before marching towards the living room feeling like a soldier marching into war. No turning back now.

"Thanks." Steve smiled at him, blowing on his tea before taking a careful sip. His lips looked chapped and dry, now that Tony noticed. _Probably from the cold weather he'd been withstanding, _his brain supplied.

"No problem." He brought his hands together primly, setting them down on his lap a second later. He had no idea how (or where) to start, so he searched Steve's eyes and hoped he was being clear enough in the silent _go ahead_ he gave him.

Apparently, he was, because the blonde cleared his throat and started talking, looking at a spot above Tony's shoulders, not meeting his eyes. Tony couldn't blame him.

"So, I got your voicemail." His tone had changed to a slightly hopeful one, and Tony felt the need to clarify before Steve could get his hopes up. Yes, he said he'd be willing to give Steve another chance, but he'd given the whole situation some thinking, and had come to the conlusion that despite what he'd told him on the phone, he wasn't actually ready to forgive him right away. It's not that he didn't want to (although a very prideful part of him certainly _didn't_), but it was gonna take a long time before he could learn to trust him again, and Steve needed to understand that.

"Look, Steve..." He began, grabbing his own elbow, unsure of what he wanted to say (unsure of _how_ to say it), but willing to start on their long pending conversation once and for all. Just like removing a band-aid. Fast and efficient, no room for hesitation.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Steve interrupted him, wincing when he realized he'd used a pet name on him that might not be welcome. Tony shrugged, uncaring. He understood it wasn't voluntary, it just came out naturally after years of using it on each other on a daily basis. (He would know). "I heard you loud and clear on that voicemail, but I did not come back because I thought you'd forgive me just like that. You were grieving, as was I, and I know fixing this mess is gonna take a lot more time and effort than that. Me showing up isn't going to suddenly erase everything that went down, and I'm not stupid enough to think it could. If I'm here, it's because I think we have a chance and I'm willing to fight for us." He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, preparing for a fight like the soldier he was. The man who never gave up, no matter how big the opponent, how impossible the odds were. And this time it was for him. For Tony.

He felt strange all of a sudden, warmth spreading all over his body like it hadn't in _months_. He blinked, dizzy from the sudden, almost foreign sensation after so long without feeling it.

"If that's okay with you." Steve added quickly, for good measure.

And, wow, okay, when had Steve become so understanding and practical? _He always was, you moron. Just because he's a reckless idiot doesn't mean he's not smart. And he's always been perceptive like that,_ his brain reminded him.

"It is. I... I agree with everything you just said." Steve's eyes widened. "Yeah, I know, that'd be a first for us." He grinned, watching as the blonde's expression relaxed, amused smile tugging at his lips, the one Tony had come to learn, over the years, was reserved for him and him only.

_God_ had he missed that smile.

"When I heard your voicemail, I..." He frowned, seemingly trying to find the right words. "I'll be honest, not even the devil himself could've kept me away from you. But I'm not gonna fool myself, or you, into thinking that was the cause of this. It was only the last straw."

His eyes held a different kind of emotion now. It was something wild, raw, _honest_. It shook Tony to his core.

"I was just waiting for an excuse. I've been ready to come home from the very first moment I left, and it was stupid of me to think i could stay away from here. From  _you_ . You need to know that, Tony. I'm not myself when I'm away from you. I don't have any fight left for the world, sweetheart, as selfish as that sounds, but I've got whatever amount it takes for you. For us. Please, you gotta believe me." His very blue eyes found Tony's and held him captive. They were shining with unshed tears, and he felt his own well up in response. He blinked, unwilling to break down before he made his point across.

"I do believe you, Steve. I'm not gonna lie and tell you I can leave all this behind, because I know that won't be possible. I know your intentions were good, reckless and irresponsible as they were, but you hurt me." Steve's expression looked pained, mouth settled on a tight line. "You hurt me, and you were selfish, even if you were technically not thinking about yourself. You cared more about your long-lost friend's wellbeing than about our marriage, and that was _ your_ mistake, but I'll admit making you choose between us was wrong of me. I apologize for that." His voice felt almost unrecognizable to his own ears, sounding thin and vulnerable in a way it hadn't since the voicemail, in the way Steve could make it. He held the blonde's gaze though, unwavering.

"I forgive you, Tony. You didn't know any better, and you're not completely to blame, either. Your state was... delicate, and anyone in your place would've reacted the same way you did. But Bucky, he... you need to understand, Tony, he wasn't himself. He's been trying to get better, recover from all the terrible things they did to him; and we've talked about this multiple times." He took a deep breath, chest rising and falling with the motion. "He wants to apologize to you personally, one day. I know it won't be easy for either of you, and I'll understand if you can't accept his apologies, but I need you to tell me you'll at least hear him out. I know I'm in no position to make demands, but you were always the reasonable one." Steve's pained eyes turned fond, looking for Tony's again, and holding on for dear life. "Can you promise me you'll at least consider it?"

"I'll... think about it. That's all I can promise you right now." He said honestly. No point in deceiving, not now. 

Not after all.

"That's all I'm asking for. Thank you, Tony." Steve's tone was earnest, tinted with a relief so palpable Tony felt the need to keep making pointless promises just to keep it that way.

"Again, no problem. You said it yourself, I'm not known for being unreasonable. Insufferable? Yes. Petty? You bet your ass, but never unreasonable." His attempted joke sounded hollow even to his own ears, but Steve gave a small laugh, surprising him. 

Getting to hear that sound again was like diving headfirst into cold, soothing water after spending an entire day under the punishing summer sun, or taking the first sip of hot coffee on a cold morning, after a long, sleepless night. It was all of that and more, and Tony never wanted to forget that sound again.

"So I've heard." The blonde's smile was guarded, but full of love all the same. Tony's heart did not seem to want to stay still.

"Before I forget." Steve continued, standing up to retrieve something from the duffel bag he'd brought with him. Tony watched with curiosity as the blonde pulled what seemed like a necklace out of it and offered it to him.

"I stopped at the Smithsonian for a quick visit on my way here, and just thought I'd take these back. They're mine, after all, so i technically didn't steal anything." He explained.

Upon closer inspection, Tony realized it wasn't, in fact, a necklace, but a pair of dog tags, held together by a thick silver chain. Realization dawned on him and he gasped, covering his mouth with one hand, astonished.

They were Steve's dog tags, from all the way back to World War 2, practically a national relic, and he was giving them away... to Tony? Why?

"Why?" He voiced his thoughts, wide eyes fixed on Steve's soft ones. He was making that expression, the puppy dog one, with the tilted eyebrows and bright, loving eyes, and Tony couldn't take it. He looked down, throat closing up with emotion. 

"Well, while I was away, I often wondered if you were still wearing your wedding ring. You know, just because, I, well, thought a lot about you in general. We never did much, really, we only lay low, and it would get so boring, so I had to distract myself." He looked down, subtle red staining his pale cheeks. "And I realized you'd made them for me." A throat clearing. " _us_ , I mean. Us. And so I wanted you to have something of mine to, you know, remind you of my promise to fight for us and try to make this whole mess better."

Tony's eyes were getting blurry for the second time that day, but this time he let the tears fall freely, run their natural course down his cheeks and into his beard. He didn't know what to make of Steve's words, and he was torn between desperately trying to hold onto the hurt, reject him, destroy him like he had Tony, or listen to his heart, which was begging for him to just welcome Steve back with open arms and forget about everything else.

In the end, he did neither, he just stared like an idiot, but Steve, perceptive as always, seemed to understand anyways.

"Can I?" He asked, and Tony nodded, sniffing wetly.

He felt the blonde's big hands doing a quick, gentle job of sliding the chain that held the dog tags together down the top of his head until it surrounded his neck, making him shiver from the coldness of the metal chain. Next, Steve fixed them so they were lying flat on his chest, right next to where his arc reactor cast its characteristic blue glow through Tony's crumpled, half unbuttoned white shirt.

They fit perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Smoking hot reunion sex next? I vote for yes 😏

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos keep me inspired 🥰
> 
> Find me on Tumblr:[evansdowneyxstony](https://evansdowneyxstony.tumblr.com/post/187432662086/they-invented-the-emoji-and-you-cant-tell-me/amp)
> 
> Also: if y’all want a part 2 of Steve crawling back to Tony just let me know lol


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